If You're Looking for a Distraction
by le-petite-merde
Summary: Myka stepped into the bar, looking for the woman she hadn't seen in nearly a year. And then, the stunning figure of Maura Isles.


Myka wearily opened the door to the bar and stepped inside, her eyes quickly sweeping over the area. It'd been so long since she was last in Boston, but she realized she'd missed the bustling, busy atmosphere more than she'd let herself notice. It was so different from the quiet calm of South Dakota it was nearly jarring, but she embraced the feeling of love of life, especially after the particularly trying days she'd had lately. She spotted the blonde woman in the slender dress she was supposed to be meeting, sitting a few booths down. When the woman noticed Myka in return, she stood and smiled, waving in greeting. Myka hadn't seen her friend in close to a year, and emails were being exchanged fewer and farther in between. She and Pete had just finished a case in Cambridge, and the visit was too tempting to refuse. She'd made a call, and now here they were. Myka approached the woman with a genuine smile, something that had been sorely lacking over the last few days, weeks even.

"Maura," she nearly sighed, leaning into a hug the woman instantly returned. Neither of them were usually this abruptly tactile, but Myka found she needed the sense of comfort that this contact washed over her. The women embraced for a moment longer, and then took their opposite sides of the booth.

"This is a very pleasant surprise," Maura said, pushing forward a glass of wine she knew Myka had a taste for. "I've missed you. This is definitely better than email correspondence, I must say." She leaned slightly back in her seat and beamed at the woman across from her.

"Yes," Myka let a soft laugh slip out of her mouth, absorbing the relaxing atmosphere of the comfy bar. "Infinitely better. Pete and I were in town, and I needed a bit of a getaway, from the job and him, after this week." She took a sip of the wine, allowing the feel of the liquid down her throat to calm her, and she sighed, resting against the back of the booth. The taste of the wine, though it had been a long while since she'd had it last, was so familiar she could've had some yesterday, and she was reminded of the childlike joy she used to have in the past. It was one of the few wines she enjoyed; Maura had always had a knack for knowing what she liked, and remembering. She was good.

"Oh, what were you two chasing this time?" Maura teased. "Something Red Sox, if what you've told me about Pete holds true."

"Look at you, talking about sports," Myka bantered back. "That never happened when we were younger. Where on earth did it come from, then?" She stiffened imperceptibly, though, knowing the answer before it came and worrying on her friend's behalf.

"Jane, of course," Maura let out, somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. Bringing her wine glass to her lips, she added, "Who else could it possibly be?"

Myka bowed her head for a short moment, and then raised her glass to her mouth to down the remainder of the liquid in her glass before indicating to the bartender to bring over the entire bottle. Something told her she wanted to be loose for this conversation. She smiled at her friend, voice releasing her perpetual stress with every word. "You were never this in love with me, you know." At Maura's scandalized gasp, she continued. "And I daresay we were quite smitten back then." She couldn't help herself, Maura was too easy for her to mess with. She realized, with a jolt in her stomach, that she must be Maura's Pete. The very thought sent at least a small portion of the sanity that remained in her dwindling away. She loved Pete, but ugh, he was _Pete_ for godsakes.

"We were hopeless for each other, you know that." Maura grinned. "We were quite a pair." There was no bitterness in her words, only the amused air of nostalgia. "But yes, you're correct," she couldn't stop her smile from widening. "Jane is…something else entirely."

"Yeah, she does seem to be. After you told me about her the first time, I went all Secret Service on her." Myka's lip turned up as she saw the way Maura's eyebrow hitched up. "I just did my research. She's an extraordinary cop and, from what you tell me, an amazing woman too." Her lips quirked up at the light coming on in Maura's eyes. And also at the bottle of wine the bartender had just dropped by. The agent wrapped her long fingers around the bottle and poured herself another glass, also taking the chance to refill her partner's. "How is it going with her, then? She hasn't been in the papers in South Dakota lately, so I think it's safe to say she hasn't shot herself again?"

"Yes," Maura laughed. "That is a safe conclusion. I remember how you told me about the Warehouse, of course. That the gun Jane used became an artifact and you and Pete were brought in to, uh, neutralize I believe was the term you used. We hadn't seen each other in years, and I had such a hard time believing at first." The doctor lost herself in the reminiscence for a moment, her green eyes sparkling at the one good thing that had come out of that horrible time, and she then returned to herself. Her smile fell and she cast her eyes down to the glistening wine, before returning her gaze to the woman in front of her. "She's pregnant, Myka."

Myka nearly choked on her drink, hastily grabbing a napkin from the dispenser to dab at the dribbled bit on her chin. "What? Don't play with me, Isles. Pete and I snagged an artifact a week ago that drowned you when you told a lie. Of course, that wouldn't work on you, but," she trailed her ramblings off, coming to realize what her friend had said. She sighed, setting down her glass and sweeping her trained eyes quickly over Maura's face. "Casey came back?"

"Left, came back, proposed, left again, yes. Unfortunately. She said she couldn't marry him, though. She wouldn't leave the _real _love of her life to go be his darling army wife."

If Myka hadn't just swallowed a rather sizeable sip of the wine, she knew she would have choked again. She cleared her throat and began, "What the hell do you, does she, mean the 'real love of her life'? Does she mean you? Are you a couple? Why didn't you say something?" Her inhibitions were lowering faster than she usually expected, and she felt like Claudia, always excited and loud and begging for information. But she looked over Maura's soft features again, and there was a sad, albeit somewhat amused half-smile across her lips.

"Myka, for someone who hasn't seen much direct romance over the past several years, you are strangely invested in others' love lives. I guess I know who I should attribute that to." She saw Myka fail to resist the urge to smack her on the arm a second late, moving too slowly to avoid the hit. From what little she knew of Helena, it was obvious that she was a touchy subject, and forewent pushing that envelope just yet. She continued on with the current topic of conversation, "We're not together, no. Jane's one true love is her job, not Casey, not me. She is as dedicated to her work as you are- bordering on obsessively, if you want my personal, if slightly biased, opinion."

"Ah yes, it seems you do have a type after all. Tall, attractive brunette cops who are addicted to their work." Myka looked at Maura across from her, the easy flirting banter coming back to them, as if no time ever passed between them.

"No," Maura returned. "To be fair, you were still pre-med when we met. It was your incredible skill with a sabre that first attracted me. And while we're on the subject, it'd be utterly shameful of us to forget Lauren. A blonde doctor, if you recall correctly. So I might tell you your argument is invalid."

"I resent you thinking I could ever forget Lauren. I still have her jacket, by the way. She left it for me after one of all of our wilder nights together." Myka nearly blushed in spite of herself, and saw Maura do the same. "It still counts, though, your type. Although I'd consider including attractive genius doctor types. Not to be a narcissist on your behalf or anything. And I'd continue to say that your type is also _extremely_ good in bed, but you already know that." Myka winked, extremely enjoying herself in Maura's (and the wine's) company.

"This is probably where I should cut you off," Maura smiled fondly. She reached for the woman's still half full glass, Myka's hand clapping down on her own as soon as she got hold of the bottom.

"Don't you dare, Isles. You saw me on my bad days in college, you know how I get when people touch my alcohol."

"Yes, I do. You get very feely. I remember you once tackling Lauren for relieving you of an extra beer." Maura quirked an eyebrow as if to drop the point, and then slipped the glass from the agent's hand, taking a sip before returning it to her. "And knowing what we know now, are you sure there wasn't an artifact at work there?" she mocked.

"Hm, you know you might have a point. Maybe a Succubus artifact, even, judging by the way you and I made it up to her later." There might have been a slip or two in Myka's words, but she paid it no mind, choosing instead to flow with situations for once, instead of always trying to control them. She gulped down what was in her glass and refilled it half way again. Maura eyed her cautiously; she hadn't seen Myka drink like this in a while. "Besides, you don't have any idea what I went through this week. We had to chase Thomas Jefferson's quill. I mean, c'mon Maura._ Thomas Jefferson's freakin' quill. _That thing was annoying to try and find, and harder to bag. I got _shot _at over that quill, okay? I deserve this drunkenness. I just didn't want to get Pete involved." She folded her arms on the table and settled her head on top, gazing at Maura through her eyelashes. "I never got shot at in pre-med, Maura." It was quite nearly a pout.

Maura couldn't keep her chuckle in, and indulged herself in pouring another glass of the wine. "Oh yes, the standards of living back then. Although I certainly know what you mean." She'd declined Jane's offer earlier to join her at her apartment for Friday night takeout after closing their case and regretted it later, but decided instead to open a bottle of wine at her own home. She'd only gotten a glass into her evening before picking up her ringing phone to hear Myka's voice on the other end, immediately registering that the night was going to be very interesting. Now, she knew she was at least past tipsy, but she figured she could at least be a good friend and join her partner in her loose stupor.

She mirrored Myka's position, nearly eliminating the space there had been between them a moment ago. "Thomas Jefferson's quill, really?" She whispered across the shared space. "And what kind of powers do those hold?" It was so easy for Maura to fall into the soft, smooth teasing banter she'd somehow cultivated with Myka over the years they'd spent together, something that had made them great friends and even more incredible lovers. Something she hadn't had at all before Myka and had since then entirely vanished, Maura retreating into her old isolated ways as she left to Africa. But then Jane came into her life, and suddenly she felt herself reopening her mind to the quick witted conversations they often held one with the other. And while she and Jane were wonderful friends, they're not lovers, she reminded herself. Maura embraced the small sting for a moment, allowing it to ground her.

"…and one time Pete said he put on Abraham Lincoln's hat and got an uncontrollable urge to free Mrs. Frederic. I don't even want to get into what happened after." Myka was giggling uncontrollably half to herself, although for the life of her she couldn't understand why suddenly it was so much funnier that it was when Pete'd told her. She sustained her laugher for a second and noticed Maura wasn't listening, apparently somewhat consumed in thoughts of her own. Myka sat all the way up abruptly, recognizing this particular introspective gaze, and dreading what she was sure would come out of the doctor's mouth next. "No, Maura, no," she whined. I know that look, don't make that look. Last time I saw that look was when I told you about-"

"Please tell me about Helena, Myka. I'd like to know. You told me so little about her at first, and I was shocked to say the least. And when you got back to South Dakota you wrote me one long, winded email and you sounded so hopeless. It was so unlike you, you must have been drinking, and then you asked me not to mention her again for a while? What was I supposed to think? I respected your wishes, because I care about you so much, but now, Myka…" she let herself trail off, letting her awe and wonder hang in the air, registering Myka's half aggravated, half resigned glare.

Myka softened and drained the last bits of wine the both their glasses. She slid out of the booth and stood, leaning not lightly against the corner of the table for support as she stuck a hand in her pants pocket and pulled out a couple of bills. She set them on the table under the bottle of wine, and nodded towards the exit. "C'mon, Maura, let's get outta here." There was a silly lopsided grin on her face, even though a glint of sadness still shown in her deep eyes. Maura collected her back, set down on the table the remainder of the tab, and took Myka's arm as they walked out of the Robber.

"Where to, then, Miss Bering?"

* * *

A/N: No wine was harmed in the making of this fic. It'll likely be a two or three shot.

Reviews are highly appreciated, thanks! :)


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